Draco's Suitor
by SillyGoatGruff
Summary: Draco has a lot of pressure upon him from his father to find himself a pureblood wife, but the one he wants is neither pureblood nor, in fact, a woman... Drarry.
1. Chapter 1

"Draco!" snapped Lucius. Draco's head jerked upwards, knocking into the wall behind him.

"S-sorry father."

"The future of our family resides on your decision. Pray give us the courtesy of listening." his father replied, a little sharply. His mother caressed the back of Draco's head, stroking his platinum hair.

"Don't be so harsh, Lucius- it's only natural that Draco should be nervous." she said.

"Yeah," said Draco absently. Lucius smiled at his wife, a smile that showed all his teeth, and which held no glimmer of amusement. He spread the family tree on the table. The old parchment crackled as his pale hands ran across the yellowed paper and black ink.

"What about Astoria, dear? Astoria Greengrass?" Draco leaned back and took a bite out of a green apple.

"No, she's ugly."

Narcissa laughed nervously. "We don't want ugly grandchildren, do we Lucius?"

His face could have turned an onlooker to stone. "Indeed not. Her sister, then. Daphne. Even Draco can't deny her beauty."

"Is she the one with the green eyes?" asked Draco. _Green eyes, piercing through you, warm, and yet slightly icy- just a sliver of ice, mind, and they'd be hidden by glasses that glinted alluringly, and oh how Draco wanted to take them off, to caress that face, to be engulfed in those green eyes._

"No dear," said Narcissa, "blue eyes."  
>"I don't want her either."<p>

Most of the family had blue eyes. Draco hated his family, the elitist, inbred, rich bastards. It made it even worse that he was one of them._ How exciting those green eyes were, the first eyes he'd set his upon at Hogwarts, how exotic, how interesting, how beautiful._

"Go to bed, Draco." Lucius roared eventually, "I'm sick of this. Find yourself a wife." Draco had to fight the impulse to laugh as he left the room in disgrace. _Oh, I never wanted a _wife_..._

Harry sat alone on the train. Ron and Hermione were both on 'prefect duties'. He prefered not to think about what they were actually doing. Hermione had left him with a book to 'keep him company'. It lay on the seat opposite, unopened. He smiled a little. She hadn't really expected him to read a book entitled 'A History of the Sleeping Potion', had she? A sleeping potion was hardly necessary; the book was roughly six hundred pages long. Instead, he stared out of the window at the countryside rushing part, thinking of all the adventures that had been had in that compartment. He shuddered at the thought of the dementors, but soon the thought of Lavender writing on the window displaced it as the more horrific memory. He put his feet up, feeling lonely as he watched the trolley lady go past, not noticing him. He saw a flash of blond hair through the door, and collapsed onto the floor, praying not to be seen. Crookshanks looked at him from under the seat, surprised to see Harry sprawled on the dirty floor. Harry's heart sped up rapidly as the door opened. _Oh God don't let him see me, please no, no, no..._

"Harry?" He sighed in relief. It was a soft, lilting voice, not the harsh mocking one he had expected.

"Oh, hi Luna." He felt there wasn't a need to explain his lying on the floor since Luna was wearing a hat in the shape of a parsnip.

"I do that sometimes too. It's rather nice down there, isn't it?"  
>"Um, yeah." said Harry, getting hastily to his feet. Luna sat down in front of him, and he took his seat. It was silent for a while, except for the rhythmic chugging of the train. Harry liked the silence with Luna. Somehow it wasn't awkward. Perhaps it's impossible to be awkward with someone who wears brussel sprout earrings.<p>

After half an hour or so, there was a muffled shouting from outside of the compartment. Harry opened the door to find Hermione looking aloof, Ron blazing purple and-his heart was in his mouth- Drac- Malfoy.

"Why the bloody hell were you outside his compartment, you nosy little git?" Ron bellowed. Hermione put her hand on his arm.

"Ron-"

"What's happening?" asked Harry, bewildered. Malfoy's eyes were fixed on him. He determinedly didn't look back.

"Well, this complete-"

"Ron!" said Hermione

"Oh, hi Harry."  
>"It's been a while," grinned Harry.<p>

"I was walking past the compartment, and your friends decided to attack me." snapped Malfoy, "Now, as much as I enjoy talking to mudblood, scarhead and ginger, I must be off." Ron's chest swelled in fury, but Hermione shoved him into the compartment.

"Ignore him, Ron. It's not worth it."  
>"I thought it was worth it that time you punched him in the face," he muttered. Harry caught a slight smile on Hermione's face as she ushered them into the compartment.<p>

"He couldn't keep his eyes off you, Harry." said Luna dreamily, and then returned to her Quibbler. Harry didn't let the others see his smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sat with Crabbe and Goyle in the Great Hall, picking morosely at a chicken wing. Harry, he noted with considerable pleasure, had just sprayed orange juice all over Granger after a comment Weasley had made.

"Why you lookin' at the Gryffindors all the time, Drake?"

Draco resisted the urge to applaud; it was possibly the first even slightly coherent thing Goyle had ever said.

"Don't call me that."  
>Fat eyebrows knitted.<p>

"Why, Draco?"

"Oh," said Draco casually, "I was just admiring how incredibly ugly Granger is."

"Huh, huh, huh."

He raised a blond eyebrow.

"Indeed." Cool as he looked, Draco's heart was racing and a thin sheen of sweat covered the back of his neck. Still, it would take an awful lot to arouse Crabbe and Goyle's suspicion, and Draco was free to keep his eyes firmly on Harry. As he flicked the food from one side of his plate to the other, his mind took him on strange fantasies where he followed Harry to his dormitory and... He smiled. Some things are best kept secret. He wondered how Crabbe and Goyle would react if he told them. Whether they'd be more disgusted that he was a boy, a Gryffindor or an enemy of the Dark Lord he couldn't tell. He grinned to himself. Who cared about those dunderheads? He only kept them for protection anyway. There was only one person he wanted companionship with...

It occurred to Draco as he swirled his pumpkin juice that he had only ever behaved like a complete prat towards Harry. How had he only noticed this after five years of loving him? He furrowed his brow, trying to understand his own motives, but the bustle of the hall was too loud. He looked around bewilderdly, wondering how they could be so happy and joyful, when he, Draco, was lonely. In the end, he kicked Crabbe's leg in frustration, and left the hall.

Harry, though he was not aware of it, had had his eye subconsciously fixed on D- Malfoy.

"Excuse me," he said. His brain was suddenly awash with odd thoughts.

"Where you goin'?" asked Ron with a mouthful of pie.

"That's disgusting Ron," said Hermione.

"Toilet." said Harry.

"That's disgusting, Harry." said Ron in a perfect imitation of Hermione. She glared, but there was a warmth in her eyes. Harry laughed half-heartedly and left.

The corridors were silent in contrast to the busy hall. Harry's footsteps echoed as he made his way down them. He didn't know what he was doing; he didn't even need the bathroom.

Draco (damn, Malfoy) was there washing his hands when he arrived. He felt a little quivery as he walked past him. Then he realised he was stuck. He was too nervous to possibly go with D-Malfoy there, and he'd look an idiot if he walked out. He walked to the sink and washed his hands alongside Draco. He scowled into the sink while he did so, conscious that it must have looked as if he'd followed Draco.

"Had a good Summer?" Draco asked pleasantly. Harry stared in disbelief.

"Um, good, yeah. You?" he replied cautiously, in case it was a trick. Draco laughed bitterly.

"Father's trying to marry me off. Bit rubbish for me." he grinned. Harry was struck by Draco's beauty, and smiled back.

"Why's that? No pretty ladies for you?"

"I don't want... pretty ladies."

Harry was aware that they were both acting insanely out of character, him acting laddish and Draco being polite and civil.

"What... do you want?" Harry asked. The lights seemed to dim a little as he looked into Draco's blue eyes, and he bit his lip without realising.

"You," Draco whispered, and leaned in.

A few minutes later.

Harry tore his lips apart from Draco's for just long enough to whisper,

"What is it with us and bathrooms?"

Draco pressed his lips back against Harry's, kissing him furiously.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mister Potter." His lips moved to Harry's neck, who laughed.

"I almost killed you last time we were both in here." sighed Harry.  
>"Oh yes." [Harry gasped], "Well, you're almost killing me now. <em>Kiss me<em>." Harry did so perfectly willingly. His thoughts were entirely on Draco- not once did he consider the fact that he was kissing the biggest prat in Hogwarts. He was in heaven.

The sound of clattering and loud footsteps outside brought them both back to their senses. The feast was over. Draco pulled his lips away from Harry with a moan, and straightened Harry's askew glasses, smoothed his hair and whispered,

"Speak of this to no-one." before joining the other Slytherins in the crowd outside.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry entered the common room in a daze, hair more messy than usual and glasses slightly askew. He couldn't, wipe the stupid grin off his face. It was ridiculous, really, that the boy who had spent the last year in mutual hatred with him had just... He was slightly inclined not to believe it. He wouldn't if it weren't for the tingling in his lips, the fluttering in his stomach that told him: yes, you did just kiss Draco Malfoy. He shivered a little as he made his way to Ron and Hermione, who were sitting by the fire. The firelight enhanced his blush and it was only due to the fact that they were entranced with each other that his friends didn't notice. In fact, they didn't notice he was there at all until he coughed awkwardly. They jerked their gaze away from each other and turned to face Harry.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked, slightly accusingly. Harry flushed.

"Um. Stomach ache."

"Yeah?" Said Ron.

"Harry, we saw Malfoy was gone too."

"Oh well, we were, uh, fighting. Yes. He called your mother a ginger whore, Ron. Had to. Fight him, I mean." Harry revelled slightly at the look on Ron's face. After all, it was the sort of thing Draco would say. And he surely wouldn't mind Harry's lying if it insulted Ron at the same time. Suddenly Harry realised the reality of who it was he'd been kissing. Draco Malfoy, from a family of death eaters, most of whom were purebloods. Draco Malfoy, who rejoiced in insulting Harry's friends whenever possible. Draco Malfoy, who had pretended to be a dementor to scare Harry in a quidditch match. Draco Malfoy, who was a surprisingly good kisser.

"When did he say that?" said Hermione in a hushed tone.

"What? Oh, when I was washing my hands. So I punched him."  
>"Who won?" asked Ron a little too eagerly.<p>

"Me." said Harry after consideration.

"Good," said Ron, and began to gnaw on some turkey he'd snuck out from the hall.

Draco smirked. Oh, yes. He had kissed Harry Potter. Ha. He traced a pattern on his thigh absent mindedly, as the two thugs he called 'friends' tried to figure out what to say.

"Where were you before?"  
>"Hmm? Me? Oh. Fighting Potter."<p>

"Fightin'?"

"Yep. He insulted my mother. Couldn't have done anything else."

Goyle's brow creased. Crabbe's didn't. His expression was blank and he seemed to be in another world.

"Who won?"

Draco didn't even pause.

"Me."

Harry watched Draco on the Marauder's map before he went to sleep that night. Draco paced up and down the Slytherin common room for at least an hour before finally going to bed. It was only then that Harry let himself sleep, conscious that both of them would be dreaming of each other that night...

"Hello, Harry." Draco stood boldly in the middle of an entirely black room, clad only in green silk pajamas.

"Draco," said Harry, looking around. It was not so much a room; that implies walls, a floor and a ceiling, whilst this place seemed to expand endlessly.

"I didn't know you were the striped pajama time," Draco drawled. Harry looked down to see he was in his regular nightwear; no shirt and striped blue pajama bottoms. He concentrated and tried to change his clothes; he could do that sometimes when he knew he was dreaming, but not usually for such trivial matters.  
>"Doesn't work, Potter. You're completely awake. We're just somewhere.. different."<br>"Where?" asked Harry, bewildered and confused.

"Somewhere," said Draco, "somewhere where there is only me and you."  
>"What have you done?"<br>"Halucinor spell. Took me ages to master it. Now we can do whatever we like together, but we'll still be safe in our beds."

"Whatever we like," repeated Harry slowly.  
>"Anything."<p>

Harry grinned. Draco's teeth shone dimly as he did the same.

Draco leaned back contentedly as light flooded upon him. He was tired, yes, and there were huge bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but hell, it was worth it. He forced his weary body from the bed, and slipped out of his green silk pajamas and into his uniform. He to concede, as he brushed his hair, Potter was a good kisser. He grinned. There were a lot of things Potter was good at. It was double potions first. Heaven. He made his way to the Great Hall, and ate the largest meal he'd had in his life. It seemed kissing gave him an appetite...

Harry's brain refused to accept that the previous night had been real. It had simply been a very elaborate dream- he had awoken in exactly the same place had he not? And the deep scratches Draco had run down his arms in the dream were not there now it was morning. He shrugged. It had been a good dream. He pulled his uniform on, suddenly wishing it was green so that he could sleep in the same room as Malfoy. The thought stuck in his brain, of how Draco would look asleep, how he'd look just waking up, with his hair in a mess. He slapped himself, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. Ugh.

"Uh, you alright Harry?" Ron was sat up in bed, his bare chest painfully ugly to Draco's. Or at least... Draco in his dreams.

"Um, yeah. Trying to wake myself up, you know?"  
>"By slapping yourself."<br>"Yes." said Harry, and ran down to breakfast, feeling no further explanation was needed.

The Slytherin table looked formidable. It was early, and only Draco, Blaise, Pansy Parkinson and a few first years sat there. Harry saw that Draco had heaped his plate with bacon and strawberries, and was eating with great gusto. He wondered how on Earth that could taste even edible. He made his way over. Of course, he wouldn't sit down, only ask Draco for a word. He needed to know if the dream was real. Well, not really. He needed to kiss Draco.

"Um, could I have a word, D-Malfoy?"

Draco looked up from his plate with an expression of disgust.

"What is it, _Potte_r? Can't find any friends?"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Alright, I'll talk to you." He rolled his eyes at Pansy, who giggled and fluttered her lashes. Then he followed Harry out of the hall into the corridor.

"Hey there, sexy." said Draco saucily. Harry gawked even more.

"Well I couldn't proclaim my love for you in front of them, could I?" asked Draco exasperatedly.

"I- suppose..."

"Well? You wanted to talk? You nearly embarrassed us both, so it must be important."

"This sounds stupid, but..."  
>"But..?"<br>"I dreamed about you last night. I was wondering if it was real."

Draco laughed, "You dreamed about me."  
>"Yes."<br>"Well there's your answer. Dreams aren't real, Potter."

Harry blushed, feeling completely stupid. But when Draco turned on his heel, he raised his eyebrows in such a way that Harry thought the halucinor spell might be real after all...


End file.
